


Something New

by EveningStarcatcher



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Kids (Good Omens), First Kiss, Fluff, Frustrated Aziraphale, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentioned Anathema Device, Mentioned Madame Tracy (Good Omens), Mentioned Mr. and Mrs. Young, Mentioned Newton Pulsifer, Mentioned Sergeant Shadwell (Good Omens), Mentioned The Them (Good Omens), soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24706078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveningStarcatcher/pseuds/EveningStarcatcher
Summary: Aziraphale tries something new and is eager to see Crowley's reaction.Ficlet for SFW Verb Roulette!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51
Collections: Verb Roulette





	Something New

Aziraphale stood before the mirror, hands worrying at the unfamiliar fabric. It was strange, the feel of new brass beneath his fingers, the faint scent of new clothes.

It looked rather good, he thought. A sharp contrast to his usual attire, but perhaps sharp was what he needed.

He was hoping it would impress one rather sharp-edged occult being.

“Ah, speak of the devil!” Aziraphale chuckled as he heard a familiar voice call to him from the bookshop below.

He straightened his bowtie (also updated - he couldn’t part with it entirely, could he?) and rushed down the stairs to find Crowley leaning against the doorframe looking as lithe and beautiful as ever. His eyes were focused on the phone in his hand.

“I’m ready, my dear! You look lovely, as always.” Aziraphale stood before him now, leaving just enough room for Crowley to really admire the new outfit. After all, it wasn’t every day that the angel wore something other than cream. It hadn’t been _any_ day, actually. 6000 years and this was the first.

Crowley glanced up at him, then back to his phone. “Thanks, you t-” The word seemed to dissolve on Crowley’s tongue.

Aziraphale fought the smile that tried to force itself across his face. He had imagined all manner of responses this outfit would get from his (well, not _his_ ) demon: a sarcastic remark, an eyeroll, a scoff, a jaw drop, another wall slam, but what he wanted most was one of those strange words Crowley sometimes used . They weren’t really words, but they spoke volumes. He had nearly prayed for such a response, but it didn’t quite seem appropriate, so he hadn’t. Instead, he tucked that desire safely away in his deepest heart as he buttoned himself into his new suit. 

“Ready to go?”

“What?”

“Ready to go? I know you don’t like being late.” Crowley held the door open.

_That was it?_

In all his imaginings, Aziraphale had failed to imagine a situation where Crowley simply didn’t respond. The demon’s features were smooth, casual, as if nothing had changed. As if he wasn’t affected at all.

Aziraphale’s stomach dropped and he no longer wished to go out. He would much rather stay locked up at the shop, reading a story of unrequited love, and nursing his broken heart in peace.

“Of course.” He smiled politely and stepped out of the bookshop and towards the Bentley.

The ride was much the same as they always were - they chatted, they teased, Aziraphale scolded at every display of reckless driving and human endangerment, and had an overall pleasant time while being serenaded by Freddie and gang.

Same as always.

They pulled up to Jasmine Cottage and waved to the crowd that was gathered in the small front lawn. The kids were running about, weaving through the adults, who seemed, for the most part, unaffected. The older man seated on the bench grimaced at them as they passed and a nervous young man jumped quickly out of their way, splashing the contents of his cup down his chest as he did so, but the women and the other man simply ignored them or egged them on.

An angel and a demon stepped out of the Bentley and joined the small party. 

There was a small table by the cottage filled with pastries, vegetable platters, and canisters of loose-leaf tea (for readings, no doubt). Aziraphale made his way over as soon as he had said his hellos and made small talk with the hosts and the other guests.

He was eager for the reprieve. He was still very disappointed in Crowley’s lack of reaction. Perhaps he had read everything wrong. Perhaps Crowley didn’t enjoy seeing Aziraphale in different colors. Maybe he only liked Aziraphale one way.

That would be fine, right?

Just as he always was. Just as they always were.

Nothing had to change. Everything was fine just the way it was.

He could convince himself of that.

Aziraphale let his eyes sweep over the party, lingering on Crowley, who was talking animatedly with the young woman hosting the gathering. They leaned close, talking quietly and quickly, hands waving wildly. Crowley glanced over at Aziraphale and quickly turned away, a red tinge painting his cheeks.

No, he must not like Aziraphale’s new look. Must be embarrassed by him. 

It felt like he had been avoiding Aziraphale’s eye, and his whole person, since they arrived, orbiting around the small lawn as if they were the wrong side of two magnets, pushing away from each other, keeping the other at a safe distance. 

And Aziraphale had hoped those days were done now that they were free.

Well, two could play at this game. No use in ruining a perfectly good party over a little broken heart. 

Aziraphale straightened his shoulders and strode purposefully toward the nervous young man and the blonde woman, smiling broadly, ready for whatever conversation he was walking into.

A few hours passed in this manner, avoiding each other, circling, making the rounds. Crowley chased the kids up and down the lane a few times while Aziraphale chatted cautiously with the Witchfinder Sergeant. Aziraphale told stories to the kids over cake while Crowley tried to help the young man with a troublesome bit of technology inside the cottage.

Dark clouds rolled in as they began to clear the table.

“Looks like perfect timing,” Aziraphale smiled brightly as he held the door open. A line of people paraded past with murmurs of _thank you_ , arms laden with plates and bowls and cups and tablecloths. Crowley passed with a polite nod. Not the usual friendly smirk or cocked eyebrow. Aziraphale’s heart clenched in his chest.

“Best get home before the worst of it hits.” Aziraphale snapped the table inside, as well as the chairs and the plates and flatware forgotten by the shrubs by children eager to continue their game on a grander scale. “Thank you so much for having us. It has been lovely.” 

Once inside the Bentley, Aziraphale let his polite mask fall away, sitting in agitated silence.

“What’s got you all bothered?” Crowley asked with a side glance.

“Nothing.” Aziraphale retorted, facing the window, staring at the raindrops as they slid across the glass.

“There’s obviously something. You didn’t even accept any cake to take home.” Crowley’s voice was measured underneath the light teasing.

“The children will enjoy it more than I would.” 

“Ha!” Crowley laughed, a glimpse at their old relationship peeking through. “I highly doubt that, angel.”

Aziraphale didn’t respond.

“C’mon. Just say it.”

“It’s foolish.” Aziraphale sighed.

“Out with it. I’m sure I’ve said worse. What’s bothering you?” Crowley’s free hand was balled in a loose fist against his thigh. The fingers twitched, as if they wanted to reach out. 

That couldn’t be it. Probably just an anxious movement. Crowley was always fidgeting and shifting. Nothing more than that.

“It’s just… well, you see, I tried, and I thought it was quite obvious, but, you… Well, you haven’t said a _word_ about this!” Aziraphale gestured frustratedly at his outfit. “I haven’t changed in six thousand years! Six _thousand_ years of the same thing every day without changing. But I did change. Today. And you haven’t even _looked_ at me!” He felt the hot sting of tears prickle in the corners of his eyes.

“I did look at you.” Crowley’s voice was small, timid. “Actually, I couldn't stop looking at you. All day.”

“All day?”

“Yeah, all day!” Crowley’s voice had a slight bite to it. Not anger, frustration.

“Oh. I didn’t think you noticed,” Aziraphale admitted, eyes dropping to his hands, tightly clasped in his lap.

“Course I noticed, angel. I always notice.”

“But you didn’t say anything!” Pink lips pouted, a brow furrowed, eyelashes batted.

“Didn’t think I should until I could do something about it.” Crowley shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

“Do something?” Aziraphale asked, attention once again back on Crowley, tracing the lines of his neck, his jaw, his nose. He noticed a bit of red creeping back into those cheeks as the demon’s jaw set with determination.

The wheel was turned sharply, sending Aziraphale scrambling for something to hold onto.

The Bentley was put into park and the engine quieted.

It was a quiet street, dark, lined with trees. Not unlike the road where they first encountered a certain young witch.

“Yeah. Was hoping to be back at the shop for this, but I think I’ve- we’ve waited long enough.” 

Crowley slid the glasses off his nose and tossed them into the back seat, turning to fully face Aziraphale.

The angel’s breath was gone, words lost, mind gone blank. Crowley was shifting closer. Warm. Welcoming. Reaching out.

A strong hand wrapped around the back of Aziraphale’s neck, the other slipped around his waist. He was being held.

By Crowley.

The two of them, embracing. 

No fear, no excuses, no lies. Just the two of them. Together. Overwhelmed at the sensation of finally being close, of touching, of being completely honest with each other. 

A press of lips against his cheek sent Aziraphale’s frozen heart speeding out of control. His eyes fluttered closed and he reached out for Crowley, needing him closer.

Cheek pressed against cheek. Chest pressed against chest. Hands holding, clutching, caressing.

Neither of them knew how much time passed as they held each other, but eventually Crowley pulled away. Not far, just enough to tip their foreheads together.

“May I kiss you, angel?”

“Oh, my darling, _please_.”

Warm, soft lips pressed against his and oh _._

 _Oh_.

This is what it felt like to be complete.

Here, wrapped in Crowley’s arms, surrounded by love, treasured and cared for, he was home.

Aziraphale let a hand drift up, cupping Crowley’s cheek, thumb rubbing along one sharp cheekbone, inviting Crowley to deepen the kiss.

“ _Darling_ ,” Aziraphale breathed as he buried his face in Crowley’s neck. 

“Angel, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Why were you avoiding me today?”

“Avoiding? I wasn’t avoiding! I was giving you space. You seemed upset and I didn’t want to make it worse. I spent most of the day planning how to tell you that I love you!”

“L-love?”

“Oh, angel. I have loved you for thousands of years.” He gently, reverently wiped a tear from Aziraphale’s cheek. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice,” he smirked.

An angel threw himself into the arms of a demon and kissed a devilish grin from damned lips. He had never felt so divine.


End file.
